Truth
by Aslan's Lamb
Summary: It seems to Lucy that she and Susan are of 2 different species,as different as the silver birch dryads and the the merry fauns that dance in the moonlight.She longs for Susan's understanding but confides in Marjorie.Only is Marjorie someone she can trust?
1. Lucy

"Marjorie, wait!"

Marjorie Preston rolled her eyes. "Oh, Lucy, do hurry! I want to get out of the rain! We shouldn't have gone out at all!"

"But look!"

A small grey kitten was huddled up near one of the school grey walls. He was completely wet, and every part of his tiny body was shivering. Marjorie finally came over to look.

"Oh, the poor thing," she gasped. "How could anybody leave it out on a day like this?"

"I don't think anybody left it out. It's probably a street kitten. And…" Lucy took a deep breath. "I'm going to take it inside."

"Lucy, no!" Marjorie gasped. "We're not allowed to bring pets in."

"I know we're not. But look at it! I can't possibly leave it out here."

"Maybe you could place it under a tree. Perhaps, its' mother will come for it."

"No mother would leave her kitten alone in the rain. He's motherless and alone and I am taking him inside."

Marjorie bit her lip. She grew up without a mother and knew very well what it felt like to be motherless and alone. So, she made no further protest as Lucy picked up the kitten. He tried to wriggle out of her grasp but she held him tight. Carefully, Lucy put the kitten inside her coat and headed for the main entrance.

"Wait! Shouldn't we go around where no one will see us?"

"This way is closer."

"But the headmistress is standing right there. She'll catch you and we'll both be punished! Lucy, don't."

"I am not afraid of the headmistress," Lucy said with a toss of her blonde ponytail.

Marjorie and Lucy neared the entrance. Anne Featherstone stood there talking to the headmistress.

"My father said that this was one of the best schools in all of England," she was saying.

Then she saw Marjorie.

"Marjorie, darling, how are you? That's such a darling coat. I wore one like it when I was your age."

Marjorie's face flushed pink. "Thanks, Anne," she mumbled.

"How can you stand her?" Lucy whispered, as they hurried to Lucy's room.

"Why shouldn't I? She's kind to me, when none of the other older girls are. Well, except Susan."

"She puts on airs and acts like she's the Queen of England herself." Lucy flung the door to her room open.

Susan was inside trying on a red dress. The moment she saw the dripping girls, she went into her motherly state. "Lucy! Oh, dear, you got caught in the rain, didn't you? Here let me get you a towel. You too, Marjorie. Take off those coats at once, before you get pneumonia. And the shoes. And…Lucy what is that?"

Lucy caught the towel that Susan had dropped in shock, and wrapped it around the dripping kitten. "My cat. And you needn't scold me. You'd have picked it up too if you had seen it, all cold and small and wet."

"I suppose so," Susan said with a sigh and went off to get another towel. Lucy stared after her curiously. She had expected a scolding but it was clear that Susan was preoccupied with something else. "Is something wrong, Su?"

"On the contrary," Susan said, coming back and handing Marjorie a pale blue towel to dry her hair with. "You two have just been invited to a party. A Christmas Party in Agatha Samuels' room."

There was an ecstatic squeal from under the blue towel.

Susan continued with a smile. "You will be the only two first-year girls there."

Lucy realized immediately that the only reason they were invited was because Susan had insisted. She'd rather not be invited at all, than be invited because of her sister. She'd rather not be invited at all, for that matter. She didn't like the girls that Susan spent time with. She didn't like their pretentious parties. But then she took a look at Marjorie, who emerged from the blue towel, eyes shining, and mouth wide open. She couldn't possibly disappoint her friend by saying that she wouldn't go. She met Susan's eyes and realized that this was part of Susan's scheme all along. Susan had been trying to get her to go to one of those parties since September. What Lucy really wanted was to stomp her foot, cross her arms and refuse to go. However, that would not be proper conduct for a Queen of Narnia. So she sighed, held her head high and vowed to get back at Susan somehow in the near future.


	2. Susan

"What shall I wear?" gasped Marjorie.

"I'll lend you a dress, Marjorie, here, take a look." Susan said.

Lucy glared at them both and Susan felt a stab of guilt at tricking Lucy in such a manner. It's for her own good, she told herself firmly. Once Lucy acquired a taste for these parties, she would be able to enjoy boarding school so much more. And Susan wouldn't feel guilty about leaving her behind every time. At first she had been glad that Lucy was finally going to boarding school with her. She had missed her sister terribly last year, and had worried about her and it was wonderful to have her close by. Lucy was the best and most loyal person that Susan knew, but she was just...well, childish in certain matters. Of course, whenever one of Susan's friends called Lucy childish, Susan defended her. Like this morning.

_"So, since we're all going away for the Winter Holidays, I'm having a Christmas party this week. You're invited, of course, so is Rose and Emily and Anne. A few other girls too." Agatha Samuels lowered her voice. "The headmistress will be gone that evening, so think of all the things we could do! You'll be there, won't you?"_

_"Of, course, I'll be there," Susan said. It was just like Agatha to have a Christmas party in the middle of November. It was a lovely idea though, just the thing for fun when the weather had been so dreary lately. Then a thought occurred to her._

_"Have you invited any first year girls?"_

_Agatha's green eyes widened in surprise. "Of, course not. I mean they're sweet children but they really have no idea what to do or not to do or how to behave at a party…oh!" Agatha's hands flew to her mouth. "Well, I didn't mean Lucy, Su; I meant the rest of them."_

_"So, since you didn't mean Lucy, you are inviting her?" Susan asked._

_"Well, no." Agatha sighed. "Susan, Lucy is a dear, but don't you think she's too young for such a party?"_

_"I don't think so." Susan answered mildly enough, but something in her tone made Agatha squirm._

_"Please don't get mad, Su."_

_"Please, invite Lucy."_

_"Well…oh, all right. If, you insist." Agatha rolled her eyes._

_"And Marjorie Preston."_

_"Susan, not Marjorie," Agatha gasped._

_"You know, Lucy won't come without Marjorie."_

_"I was rather hoping for that," Agatha muttered._

_Susan glared at her friend, then, folded her hands across her chest._

_"If, Marjorie doesn't come, I won't come."_

_Of course, after that Agatha agreed to invite Marjorie._

_"You can pass the invitation on to her." Agatha said with a sigh. "I don't want to be caught speaking with a first year student."_

And then of course Susan hugged her friend and said thank you, all the while thinking that there were advantages to being popular. Susan was popular for several reasons. She had won three trophies in swimming last term. She had a grown-up manner that teachers adored and students admired. And Susan was pretty. That in itself was enough. Susan enjoyed being popular. She enjoyed the way the girls flocked around her in the dining hall and she enjoyed being invited to every party. She enjoyed the power she had over the other girls. When she spoke, the girls listened. When she gave advice, it was often followed. Of course, she tried not to abuse that power but tried to use her influence for good. Great power brought great responsibility. She had learned that in Narnia.

But that was over now. When Susan and her siblings came back from their first adventure in Narnia, Susan had hoped that they could return to Narnia someday and keep on ruling as kings and queens. That hope had sustained her that year. Whenever, things got difficult she'd tell herself: You are a queen. Act like a queen. Someday, you will be queen again. Their second visit to Narnia shattered that hope. It was a thousand years later and Narnia had a different ruler. She had not realized this at first. She was eager and excited to be back and she wanted to help Prince Caspian regain his rightful position, as King of Narnia. It was only afterwards, that she understood that she would never rule Narnia again. She would never be in Narnia again. It was only in this circle of schoolgirls, that she felt like she was something more than an ordinary 14-year old girl. Only among them did she feel like a queen.

* * *

For those who are wondering why the name of my story is Truth, that will be explained in the next chapter. Please review! 


	3. Truth

The Party

"Now everyone gets a piece and whoever finds a turquoise ring in theirs get to keep it," announced Agatha Samuels as she passed out the pieces of plum pudding to the girls. Marjorie grabbed hers and crammed it into her mouth in a way that made several of the girls giggle.

"This is lovely!" Marjorie exclaimed, between mouthfuls. "Did you bake it?"

"No, mum did. I am learning to cook though and she'll teach me some more over the holidays," said Agatha, delicately taking a sip of tea. "Mum says that a young lady should know how to cook."

Marjorie quickly lowered her head, apparently to brush the crumbs from her dress, but Lucy saw the way her eyes filled up and leaned over to whisper, "Do come over on Christmas Day, Marjorie. Mum or Su will teach you to cook plum pudding."

Marjorie nodded and quickly took another bite of her pudding. Then she gave a little gasp and took out something blue and shining. "The ring!" she gasped. "I got the ring!"

Marjorie held up her ring for everyone to see and several of the girls gave Marjorie jealous looks, especially a girl named Elizabeth Bennett, who had just bought a turquoise-colored dress and had really wanted some jewelry to go with it.

"It's beautiful!" exclaimed Susan.

Privately Lucy thought that the ring couldn't even begin to compare to Narnian jewelry, but it was pretty enough in its' own way.

Marjorie tried to put it on. But the ring was much too small for her plump hand.

'The slipper doesn't quite fit, does it, Cinderella?" asked Elizabeth with a small smile.

Marjorie turned slightly red at this but Susan glared at Elizabeth and told Marjorie, "You can take it to the jewelry store and get it fitted."

"Now let's stop bothering with rings and such nonsense and play a game," said Agatha impatiently. "My older sister heard of this game in America and she thinks it is great fun. It's called Truth and this is how you play: We choose a girl and she gets asked three questions. She has to answer them no matter what they are."

"Oh, but we already know everything about each other," complained Anne Featherstone. Then her face lit up. "Why don't we ask the new girls?" She turned to Lucy and Marjorie with a smile. "I'll ask Marjorie the first question. If you could look like anyone in the world, who would you want to look like?"

Marjorie bit her lip for a second. "Susan," she finally said. The girls all burst into laughter and Susan turned rather red.

"Sweet girl! Be happy with how you look. I think you look perfectly well," she protested but anyone could see that she was pleased.

"Yes, you do look perfectly well, dear," said Elizabeth. "Especially in Susan's dress."

There was more laughter and Marjorie looked around uncertainly as if unsure whether to laugh with them or not.

"All right, now I'll ask," said Agatha Samuels. "Which boy do you like best of all?"

Marjorie took a deep breath. "Edmund," she confessed, blushing. There was even more laughter.

"Which Edmund?" Not my horrid brother!" exclaimed Susan with surprise.

At that Lucy looked like she was about to say something but closed her lips tightly instead.

"Really Marjorie, I don't know what you see in that child. He has no idea how to behave around girls," said Emily with a sniff.

At that Susan frowned and hurriedly said, "I'll ask the next question. What is you fondest wish?"

Marjorie paused. She knew what her fondest wish was. It was to have a mother. But she realized that she didn't want to tell these girls about it. Would they laugh at even that, or even worse, pity her?

"My fondest wish," she lied. "Is to go to the next party Agatha has, especially if it's as wonderful as this one."

At those words, Lucy once again opened her mouth, then, closed it abruptly.

"Oh, you sweet dear!" gushed Agatha.

"Now, let's ask Lucy," said Anne Featherstone.

Lucy sighed. She didn't want to play this silly game. She didn't want to tell her biggest secrets and have the girls laugh at them. She didn't want to be here.

"Who do you think is the most handsome boy in the world?" asked Anne eagerly.

Lucy smiled. She knew how to answer that one. "My brother, Peter," she said confidently.

Some girls chuckled, but this time there was less laughter because most of these girls privately agreed with Lucy. However, Susan gave an impatient sigh and said, "Must we keep speaking of my family?"

"All right, Su, we won't," said Agatha peacefully. "Lucy, what do you do when no one is watching?"

Immediately, thousands of answers came to Lucy's mind. She thought of finding her favorite stars in the Narnian night sky. She thought of quietly speaking to Aslan and knowing he could hear her even when he was far away. She thought of wandering through the Narnian woods at night, but then she wasn't really alone then. And she thought of the things she did in this world all alone. How she cried into her pillow, when she longed for Narnia so much she didn't think she could bear it. How she wrote letters to Mr. Tumnus, letters that she knew he'd never receive. How she practiced Narnian dances in her room when Susan was at a party.

But instead Lucy gave another answer. A truthful answer, but, also a safe answer. The easy way out. She said, "I love to hug coats."

Of course, the girls found this rather amusing and Lucy felt that she was really quite close to losing her temper at this point. Susan saw this and hurriedly said, "I'll ask you the next one."

"No, let Marjorie," said Anne. "She hasn't really had a turn at asking."

"All right," Marjorie said. "Oh, dear, what shall I ask?"

Just a moment ago she had been thinking up thousands of delicious questions to ask the others, but now that she had to ask Lucy, none seemed to fit. And all the girls were staring at her and waiting. Marjorie bit her lip and her gaze fell onto her shiny black shoes that she had gotten from her father last Christmas. And then she asked the first thing that came into her mind.

"What was the best Christmas gift you ever got?"


	4. The Argument

Lucy froze. So did Susan. There were sighs and moans all around and someone whispered that it was just like a first-year girl to ask something so boring.

Lucy didn't hear them. She was desperately wondering what to say. She knew the answer but how could she possibly tell them? Then she met Susan's eyes and she saw the message her sister was sending her.

_Lie_, Susan was thinking, _tell them about that dress that I gave you, about the book of fairy-tales mother gave you, anything but the truth. _

For a split second, Lucy almost decided to do it. She didn't want to tell anyone about Narnia, least of all these gossipy girls that would think she was mad, and not just that, they would laugh at her! Lucy hated being laughed at. But suddenly, she knew she couldn't.

In a loud, clear voice, she said, "The best Christmas present I ever got was a magic cordial. I got it from Father Christmas. It could heal any wound, any illness. It healed Edmund and hundreds of Narnians at the Battle of Beruna. When I became Queen, Narnians would come to me and ask me for my aid and if there was someone in their household who was deathly ill, I would go and heal him. "

For a moment, it was deathly silent. Then the girls, one by one, turned to Susan waiting for her to explain. Susan did not want to explain. No explanation would make sense. _Why didn't Lucy have more sense? _She thought furiously. _And now it's up to me to explain. Why me? Why do I always have to get her out of scrapes? Why? _

"What does she mean, Su?" asked Agatha.

"Uh…Well…" Susan finally gave the only answer she believed she could give. She was doing it to protect Narnia. To protect Lucy. She really was.

"Narnia was a wonderful game we played when we were children," she said. "We created our own world in a wardrobe. We had battles, and magic, and talking animals and all that sort of stuff. And Lucy had a pretend cordial that could heal any illness or wound."

Susan didn't look at Lucy the entire time she was talking. She couldn't.

Lucy stood up. "I have to go," she said in a choked voice. She walked around the table, quickened her step and tripped over one of Agatha's slippers which lay by the door. The she turned around and shouted, "I hate all of you!" And burst into tears as she ran out of the room.

Marjorie and Susan had both jumped up to follow Lucy.

"Marjorie, you can stay," Susan said, hurriedly. The conversation she was going to have with her sister was private.

"But she's my friend…" Marjorie said, uncertainly.

"Yes, and she's my sister. I've been comforting her ever since I was three. I think I can do it." And then fearing that she had been rather rude, Susan added, "You'll speak with her later. For now stay. I really don't want to spoil the party for you."

Marjorie sat back down.

Susan ran out into the hall, but Lucy wasn't there. Susan ran down the stairs to the second floor where the room they shared was but paused before entering. Now, how was she to handle this? She decided that she'd just hug Lucy and promise to never take her to another one of those parties again. Susan walked into the room, cautiously.

Lucy was curled up on her bed, hugging the kitten. The kitten was licking Lucy's tears off her nose.

"Lu…" Susan said. She didn't get any further because Lucy jumped up and hurled her pillow at her sister and then dissolved into tears again.

Susan tried again. "Lucy, look, I was wrong to make you go to the party in the first place. I see that now."

"You're horrid!" Lucy said, with a sob. "Much worse than Edmund ever was. You're…you're just like them!"

Now Susan felt insulted. It was one thing to be friends with these girls, but she would never actually want to _be_ like them!

"I'm not at all like them! I'm just more concerned about appearances than you are! I always was!"

"If, they could hear you back at home! 'Not my horrid brother'! 'Must we talk about my family'?" Lucy mimicked.

Susan felt her face get hot. "All right, so I shan't say things of that sort again."

"And what about Narnia?" Lucy asked.

"Oh, that was entirely your fault."

"My fault?"

"If, you hadn't told them about Narnia in the first place, then I wouldn't have to say it was a game!"

"But Susan, you believe in Narnia, don't you?" Suddenly, Lucy looked young and frightened and not, at all, eleven years old.

"Of course, I do, but the professor advised us not to tell anybody and I intend to take his advice."

"So you suppose I should have lied?"

'Oh, Lucy, stop being childish." Susan put her hands on her hips. "In the real world, there are times when one must lie. Yes, you should have lied. Now I know you never lie, but perhaps for Narnia's sake, you could have! Do you realize what would have happened, if I hadn't saved the situation? Do you realize what might happen if you ever speak of Narnia again? A rumor will spread that Lucy Pevensie is mad, until finally some well-intentioned person will tell a teacher and then they will question you and examine you and finally take you to a doctor and if you still hold to your story he'll think you're completely batty! Or worse, some adult will actually believe you, and try to get into Narnia and succeed and take over! You must keep Narnia a secret, Lu! I understand that telling the truth is one of your precious principles, but let's be logical, you should have lied."

Lucy looked troubled. "Well, the way you put it, maybe I should have. But, Su, I don't think he would like it."

"Who would like it?"

"Oh, don't be an idiot, you know who I mean! Aslan. I don't think Aslan would like it."

"I don't think he'd mind very much," Susan said.

"You know he would."

"Aslan would understand the importance of keeping Narnia a secret," Susan said firmly. "He certainly wouldn't blurt it out to every stranger."

"Oh, I wish he were here!" Lucy wailed. "I can't win you over with anything I say but I know he wouldn't like it and I wish I was in Narnia where lying is always wrong! Oh, I wish I was there!" And Lucy buried her face in her pillow, sobbing. Susan tried to put her arm around her sister but Lucy pushed her away angrily. "Don't touch me!"

Susan pulled away. Slowly, she got into her nightgown and turned off the light, hoping that any moment now Lucy would poke her face out of the pillows and say, "Let's make up, Su, shall we?" Lucy had a forgiving nature. They'd be friends again by tomorrow_. I was in the right_, Susan thought, _but Lucy is much too young to understand that_.

"I was in the right, wasn't I?" she whispered into the darkness.


	5. The Dream

Susan was walking through a snowy forest. It occurred to her that she should have been freezing cold but she wasn't. _Perhaps, I'm wearing a coat,_ she thought…

She walked on in the sparkling silence. _There's grass under this snow, _she thought… And suddenly, she wondered, _What if there isn't any grass? What if all the grass is dead? _And the thought frightened her so much that she knelt down and began to dig in the snow with her hands trying to find just a tiny blade of grass, just something that would reassure her than the grass was still there. She dug more and more frantically and then some noise made her look up. She saw a patch of grass ahead of her.

_Grass,_ she thought. _The grass is there. _And then she saw Him standing there and she forgot all about the grass.

"Aslan," Susan whispered. What she wanted most of all at that moment was to run to him and bury her face in his mane and sob, but at the same time she was much too afraid to even make a step. She just stood there and drank him in with her eyes. And then it occurred to her that there was something different about him.

"Aslan," she said. "You are smaller."

"That is because you are smaller, child."

"But Aslan," Susan said, uncertainly. "I've grown this year."

"But in many other ways you have grown smaller. And the smaller you grow, the smaller I will seem to you."

Suddenly Susan was sure he knew all about it and tried to explain. "But Aslan, I only did what I had to do. I had to lie. There was no other way."

"There is always another way," Aslan said.

"But they wouldn't have understood the truth! And what's the point of telling the truth to those who will never understand it or accept it? They would have thought she was mad! They would have laughed at her and called her names and, and, and it would have been all my fault!"

And then, she was on her knees and weeping on that single patch of grass.

_Was I really in the wrong then? Have I been in the wrong all this time? But I saw no other way. There was no other way. Or was there?_

"Rise, dear one."

Susan stood up and buried her face in Aslan's mane. She did not weep anymore but stood quietly with her face buried in his mane for a long time. She could have stood like this forever.

"We have little time left, dear one," Aslan said presently. Gently, Aslan threw some snow over the patch of grass. She did not see the grass now. But she knew it was there.

And then, Aslan was getting smaller and smaller and Susan clutched him tightly, tears running down her cheeks… and she realized that she was in bed and she was clutching Lucy's kitten.

Susan sat up. She must speak to Lucy immediately_. In_ _the middle of the night?_ She asked herself incredulously. _Yes, right now_, she told herself firmly. She stood up and walked over to Lucy's bed. She was just about to reach out and touch Lucy's shoulder, when doubt came. _What if the dream_…but she never got to finish the thought because right there on her nightdress, was a single strand of grass.


	6. Marjorie

**For the longest time, I couldn't decide whether to post a sequel to "Truth" or to just add more chapters to it. My reasons for creating a separate sequel were simple: The story goes off on a new tangent. It is now Marjorie's story, not Susan's or Lucy's. Also, "Truth" already had a good ending and since I always have trouble with endings I wanted to keep it as an ending. Still, I am posting more chapters instead of making a sequel because it's more sensible. The story will not make sense to anyone who has not read "Truth" first. And it's more fair to those who have story alerts for "Truth."**

* * *

When Susan closed the door behind her, Marjorie suddenly felt alone despite the seven other girls in the room.

There was a silence.

"Good show," Elizabeth remarked and several girls burst into giggles. Agatha did not laugh. The others could find this amusing because it wasn't _their_ party. Agatha assumed an expression of deep hurt.

"Lucy didn't even thank me for the good time she was having," she said, tearfully.

"Her idea of a good time is probably bedtime stories and pretend games," Elizabeth said scornfully.

"I suppose, I shouldn't have invited Lucy," Agatha said mournfully, still suffering over the insult. "I _was_ afraid she would not enjoy a party of this sort but Su insisted. Now Susan is also gone and the party is spoiled." She waited for a denial of this statement to come and sure enough, it did.

"Oh, Agatha, of course, it's not spoiled," Anne said, putting her arm around Agatha's shoulders. "It's been a lovely party and we're just getting started. Think of it this way: Susan has learned a lesson today. She has learned not to overestimate her sister's maturity. Lucy is still a child and she needs to learn…"

"She needs to learn to control her temper, that's what she needs," Alice said. She had not understood the conflict between Lucy and Susan and not understanding something always made her bad-tempered. "She said she hated us, spoiled little pig!"

Marjorie fervently wished for Susan to come to Lucy's defense. But Susan was gone and Marjorie felt that she really ought to say something. So she swallowed and timidly ventured, "Don't speak of Lucy that way. She's my friend."

The moment she said it, she felt her face heat up and regretted ever opening her mouth. What sort of childish remark was it anyway? A couple of the girls giggled but Agatha stood up and put her arm around Marjorie and said, "You're perfectly right, dear. I don't wish to hear anyone putting down Lucy at _my_ party. It wouldn't be right." Marjorie smiled in surprised gratitude but she didn't see Agatha wink at the others over her head.

This gave birth to a new game that if Agatha had a chance to name, would be named, "Humoring Marjorie." Following Agatha's example, each girl suddenly expressed an interest in Marjorie's affairs, asked her a multitude of friendly questions and gushed over her answers, all the while suppressing giggles and winking at each other. Marjorie was pleased and flattered. She chattered on and on to Emily about how she had finally drummed up enough courage to sign up for swimming lessons.

"You've sure got pluck, Marjorie!" Emily said and downed a whole cup of tea in an attempt to suppress the laughter that kept bubbling up in her.

At eleven, Agatha announced that the party was over. Yet, the girls remained behind sleepily, each not wanting to be the first to leave. There was a belief among them that if you were the first to leave a party, the others would almost definitely talk about you and criticize you once you were gone. Marjorie did not know about this belief and said it was time for her to go back to her room, feeling it was only polite to leave now that Agatha pronounced the party over. She thanked Agatha for the party, Agatha embraced her dramatically, managed to look desolate at her leaving and burst into laughter as soon as the door was closed behind her.

"Amusing isn't she?" she asked the others, still giggling.

"Hilarious!" gasped Emily.

"And too stupid to realize it!" added Alice.

"I am so glad you invited her, Aggie!" Elizabeth said.

"Oh, I haven't laughed so much in months!" Anne declared. "We shall have to see more of her! I propose we let her sit with us in the dining hall tomorrow."

Upon leaving Agatha's room, Marjorie suddenly remembered Lucy and felt a wave of guilt come over her. What sort of friend was she, enjoying herself while Lucy was upstairs crying in her room? Susan had said she would comfort her but still…I'll check on her, Marjorie told herself. She's probably asleep but all the same, it's right to check on her. She slowly walked down the dark and silent hall and up the dark and silent stairs, suppressing a yawn.

The door was slightly ajar. Marjorie peeked in silently. Lucy and Susan sat on the bed, talking in hushed tones. The only light came from the small electric torch that Lucy was holding**. **Yet, even in its' weak light, Marjorie could she that both Lucy and Susan had been crying. Red noses are quite visible, even in the semi-darkness. Susan was holding a sheet of paper.

"You see," she was saying, "We need to write up a list of responses to dangerous questions. Honest responses," she quickly added, warding off Lucy's next question, "But appropriate responses that won't cause an uproar and won't lead the others to believe you're mad. For example, today you could have said that the greatest Christmas gift you ever received was medicine that helped Edmund when he was very, very ill. It's just a matter of careful phrasing, like when you write up a law. Only the responses will have to be vague if they're to be both honest and safe. Oh, Lu, you look so mournful, don't you like my idea at all?"

"It is a good idea," Lucy admitted with a sniff. "But I wish the boys were here. They are so much better at proper replies and things of that sort."

"I should like to think I was quite good at it too. I was known throughout Narnia for my tact, wasn't I?"

"Then why didn't you…make…make use of that tact at the…party?" Lucy asked, beginning to cry once again and desperately trying to stop.

"Oh, Lu." Susan put her arm around Lucy and pulled her close. "I'm sorry. I told you I was sorry."

As Susan stroked Lucy's hair, Marjorie backed away. It hurt her to watch the two of them. It hurt her to find she could not understand what they were discussing. It hurt her to see the trust with which Lucy leaned on her sister's shoulder. Why? Was she jealous of Lucy for having an older sister to depend on? Or was she jealous of Susan for _being_ Lucy's older sister, who would always be closer to Lucy than Marjorie could ever hope to be? She couldn't know why she was jealous, she could only stand there, feeling it. Whatever, they were doing, she wasn't part of it.

Marjorie turned and walked away.


	7. Lucy Again

Marjorie Preston was the happiest girl in the dining room the next morning.

It happened like this. Marjorie was late to breakfast. As she ran into the room, the headmistress put her bony hand on Marjorie's shoulder and began to ask her the reasons for her tardiness. Marjorie said quite truthfully that she overslept but when asked _why_ she overslept, Marjorie said that she was reading a book under the covers until very late at night. The headmistress had never seen Marjorie express an interest in books before and therefore, she was skeptical. Still she let Marjorie take her seat because, after all, an interest in literature was to be encouraged.

Just then Agatha stood up and walked by Marjorie on her way to the ladies room. As she walked by, she placed a lovely little piece of Turkish delight on Marjorie's plate and whispered, "Thanks for not blabbing about the party." Then she added, "Sit with us at lunch?" and kept on walking without waiting for an answer. I suppose she felt certain that the answer would be yes. All the first year students still stared at Marjorie, but this time with a certain respect. Marjorie had often dreamed of having them look at her that way as if she was someone important and interesting. And that's why Marjorie was the happiest girl in the dining room.

While Marjorie ate the Turkish Delight, she remained in that state of blissful happiness, knowing her dream had come true. But after Marjorie finished the Turkish Delight and began to actually think about the invitation, she became more and more uneasy. She had not spoken to Lucy since the party. Her last glimpse of Lucy had been her tearstained face and her messy hair on Susan's shoulder in the dim light of the torch. Could she possibly tell Lucy that she was going to sit with the other girls at lunch instead of her? Lucy would be hurt, Marjorie knew. Marjorie knew it was her question about Christmas presents last night during the game of "Truth" that had caused Lucy to answer so strangely, to speak of magic and battles and Father Christmas and to burst into tears when Susan tried to explain her strange reply. Marjorie didn't understand what had occurred exactly but she had a vague sense of guilt. She couldn't desert her best friend now, not until she made matters right.

She'd have to say no to Agatha.

Say no? Her heart froze up at the thought. Could she possibly? Would she really dare to? Could she bear to? She might never, ever get a chance to sit with the older girls again. They might consider themselves snubbed and then they would hate her. And everything had been going so nicely! Marjorie considered pretending she was ill. She really did feel quite ill at the moment. But if she did pretend, the girls would simply extend their invitation for tomorrow and she would still be in the same dilemma. And she would definitely not be allowed to speak with Lucy today because Lucy would not be allowed to come near her. Visiting one's sick friends was forbidden at their school. Marjorie thought and thought about it during Geography and Latin and Math but did not come up with any creative solutions. Then it was time for lunch.

The girls had saved Marjorie a space, _right in the middle of the table_. For a moment, Marjorie pictured herself sitting with them, laughing and trading sweets, then she pictured Lucy's eyes...

"I think... I think it is best for me to... to sit with Lucy today," Marjorie said to Agatha, feeling ill and dizzy and terribly frightened. Agatha's mouth dropped open and remained that way and there were gasps of disbelief from Alice and Emily. " I would love to sit with you tomorrow though, really. You must understand, I'm her best friend and I can't desert her," Marjorie said, nearly crying and begging them to understand with her voice and eyes.

"Oh, we will try to survive this misfortune somehow!" Elizabeth said and Agatha coldly added, "Don't you worry, dear, we won't miss you."

Marjorie glanced at her shoes, blinking away tears and walked to the corner of the room by the window where she and Lucy always at lunch. Lucy was already in her seat. Marjorie swallowed and told herself to forget the incident. Lucy should not know that Marjorie ever had to make this choice. She _would _not know. Yet, for the first time, Marjorie felt not as if Lucy was choosing to sit with her but that _she_ was choosing to sit with Lucy. And Marjorie felt a sweet sort of pride creep into her heart at the thought that she had made the right choice, that she had sacrificed and that she was a hero.

"Oh, Lu," she said. "Are you all right?" And continued without waiting for a reply, "I wanted to follow you last night but Susan told me to stay so I did but I felt awful about it! I know my question made you cry and I'm sorry for asking it and I hope you aren't cross with me?"

Lucy smiled and brushed a messy strand of hair from her forehead. "No, I'm not cross. I wasn't mad at you, you know, but at Susan."

"Why?" Marjorie asked. She had been wondering about that all night.

"Well, for making me go to that horrid party in the first place and for saying…terrible things there. Imagine, Marjorie, if I told someone that _you_ weren't real!"

Marjorie couldn't quite imagine it. "Oh, Lucy, didn't you like any of the party at all? I…I thought it was nice," she confessed.

"The only nice part was when you got the ring," Lucy said. And then added, "I'm glad you got it and not me."

"You mean, you didn't want to get it?" Marjorie asked in amazement.

"Oh, but it wouldn't have been quite fair," Lucy said. "I used to get so many rings and necklaces before, so much more than you."

"Really? From who?" asked Marjorie.

"Friends," Lucy said.

"What friends?" Marjorie asked.

"Good friends," Lucy said.

Marjorie got the impression that they were playing some sort of unexplained game. Lucy had changed somehow overnight. Before, she would speak about magical countries and lions and wardrobes and other things that didn't make any sense. Marjorie had liked it, just like she liked everything about Lucy. Today, Lucy was being vague and evasive.

"What friends?" Marjorie asked again, this time with impatience. She felt that after her sacrifice she had the right to expect a direct answer to a direct question.

Lucy was silent. "Marjorie, do you think I am mad?" she finally asked.

Marjorie was too shocked to respond right away. "Certainly not!" she finally gasped.

Lucy smiled the smile that made her look, at once, like happy child and a serious grown-up. "I'm glad," she said. Then she spoke, "Queens always get a lot of presents. It's one of the many nice things about being a queen. Sometimes princes who asked for my hand would send me jewelry. But I didn't always feel right about taking it because I had to refuse them, you know. But when Peter or Mr. Tumnus or even a little village child gave me a ring I treasured it because it was a simple gift, given from the heart."

Marjorie leaned back in her seat and sighed as she closed her eyes. This was the Lucy she loved. But suddenly through Lucy's voice she heard the laughter of Agatha and her friends and felt a small drop of bitterness. If it wasn't for Lucy she'd be sitting with them.


	8. Aslan

_What's up, Lu? __How are your swimming lessons? It must seem a bother having to learn to swim all over again but perhaps, if we ever get back you'll swim twice as well because you learned it twice. How is Susan? Does she ever speak a sentence without "America" in it? It's all she seems to write about, when she does write at all and I am wondering whether she ever mentions the past. Our real past. _

_In reference to your last question about your cat, of course, I'll take him for the summer. I'm not too fond of cats (non-talking ones that is) but I am fond of you so I'll be glad to care for something that is yours. I'm just warning you: the cat might be rather overeducated by the time you get it back. All that Greek and Latin and all those formulas and theories might turn it into one overly clever animal. _

_I know that this letter might miss you because in a few days you'll be boarding the train and going home. I'm sorry for not writing before but I'm simply swamped with last minute assignments and of course, saying goodbye to the fellows here at school is a bit difficult since I won't be seeing them again. Once you've lived in the same room with someone for a year, you become rather good friends._

_With Love,_

_Peter_

Lucy sighed and put the letter down on her desk.

"You become rather good friends," she murmured. Yet, she and Susan had shared a room all year and they had only grown apart. Susan had stopped trying to bring Lucy into her circle of friends but still spent as much time with them as before. Susan didn't say Narnia was a game anymore. Lucy didn't think she'd bear it if she did. But then Susan never referred to Narnia at all anymore. When Lucy asked why Susan wouldn't speak of it when they were alone, she said that speaking of it privately might cause her to speak of it publicly by accident and there was no real privacy in boarding school anyway; everything was overheard eventually. She promised Lucy that once they were back at home they would speak of Narnia for as long as she wanted. It was the end of May now and tomorrow Lucy and Susan would take the train to Finchley and would arrive home late in the evening. But they would go straight to bed and in the morning, Susan would go off to America with mum and dad and Peter would stay at the Professors's and she and Edmund would be stuck at the Scrubbs. And then it would be time for school again and time for secrets and silence.

And during the summer she wouldn't even have Nalsa…

The pitiful gray kitten Lucy had brought to her room in November had grown into a handsome gray feline. Since November, everybody at the boarding school except the headmistress slowly learned that Susan and Lucy Pevensie had a cat in their room. But then Susan had sweet-talked the school cooks into giving her scraps of food, bits of meat and fish and even pitchers of cream on weekends. Nalsa grew smooth and sleek and strong. Lucy loved the cat and not just for all the usual reasons that girls love cats. Nalsa was probably the only thing Lucy and Susan shared an interest in now. They would both play with Nalsa, laugh at her antics, feed her, clean up after her. Lucy had found her and Susan had named her.

But Peter would have her all summer.

Lucy heard Susan's voice outside the room; she was evidently talking to a school chum and saying goodbye. Then Susan entered the room, still laughing and red-cheeked from her quick walk.

"Morning, Lu. Isn't it a beautiful day? I've heard that in America there's hardly any rain in the summer, only sunshine. I shall have to visit the seaside when I'm there. Once I buy a fashionable swimming suit, of course. Not that I'm not taking my own, just in case. You ought to take yours too, I'm sure Aunt Alberta can't have anything against _swimming_. Oh, is that a letter from Peter?"

Lucy smiled and nodded. "He says he'll take Nalsa for the summer."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Lucy noticed that Susan did not ask to read the letter but kept on talking. "Of course, I'll have to give Peter a serious lecture about taking care of cats properly because although he _means well_, he can't know very much about the subject. Nalsa needs more than a bowl of food and a bowl of water. She needs affection and conversation." Susan knelt to stroke the cat fondly and sighed. "I suppose, she'll miss us at first."

"_We'll_ miss her," Lucy said. "At least I know I will. I do wish I could take her to the Scrubbs."

"You know perfectly well that is out of the question," Susan said, as she took some last minute things out of a drawer and placed them in her suitcase. "Even if Aunt Alberta _did _agree to take her, which she won't, that horrid Eustace would be cruel to her. He's the sort of boy who throws rocks at kittens and pulls cats by the tail _for fun_. You know that it's out of the question." Susan finished her speech and began to hum a song from a Shirley Temple film she had seen recently.

"I know," Lucy said forcefully. She picked Nalsa up, held her to her cheek and listened to her purr, thinking about how lonely it would be all summer without Susan or Nalsa nearby.

"Goodness, she's purring so loudly, I can hear her from across the room," Susan said. "Of course, it's not a particularly large room. Mother says that the rooms in American hotels are so lovely."

"Doesn't she have a musical purr?" Lucy asked.

Susan stopped, cocked her head and listened. "Yes," she said. And then she said a very wonderful thing. She said, "It makes me think of Aslan when he's happy."

Lucy turned her head sharply. Did she really hear…? Yes. Susan had said His name. Lucy felt the tears rush to her eyes. Never mind the fact that she didn't quite understand how a little purr could remind one of Aslan. It was rather like looking at the light of a lamp and being reminded of the sun. But for Susan to mention Aslan here at boarding school was so unusual and unlikely that it came to Lucy as a delicious surprise.

Perhaps, she could get Susan to say more now that the invisible wall between them had been removed. "Do you remember–?" she began but just then the door opened and Marjorie entered, carrying a pile of books in her arms.

Lucy glanced at Susan, but it was too late. The wall was back in place. Susan put on an artificial smile and Lucy knew that there was no hope of mentioning Narnia as long as Marjorie was here or even after that. It had been a special moment and Marjorie had ruined it.


	9. The Other Argument

Marjorie walked up the stairs very slowly, trying to balance the five books she was carrying. She wasn't a particularly graceful person and this was quite a challenge for her. Yet, she managed to reach Lucy's and Susan's room without dropping anything. Peering over the books, she was glad to find that the door was not entirely shut. She stuck her foot between the door and the wall and kicked it open entirely. She thought Susan would forgive her this once for such a rude entry. After all, she brought presents.

Marjorie had bought these books with her last bit of pocket money. She didn't buy them in a bookstore but right here at the school from a teacher named Mrs. Wilkins. Mrs. Wilkins was short and fat with glasses and short hair. She loved to assign long essays and hated it when notes were passed around in class, especially those with spelling and grammar mistakes. Yet, despite it all, Marjorie liked her.

Mrs. Wilkins was the only teacher who did not dismiss Marjorie as "stupid" even though Marjorie was awful at essay writing and quite terrible at reading aloud. Upon finding out that Marjorie was not an exceptional student, most teachers did one of two things: Either they made her miserable by constantly criticizing and shaming her in front of others or they labeled her as "slow" and promptly forgot about her, never calling on her or singling her out or expecting anything other than the minimum. Mrs. Wilkins did neither. She called Marjorie in privately and went over her mistakes. She forced Marjorie to revise. She expected her to improve. At first, Marjorie had wept and struggled, unused to this kind of pressure. Then, to her shock, she found that she liked having someone care.

On the last day of classes, Mrs. Wilkins brought in a huge bag of books to sell. She set up the books on the desks and warned the girls that they must not tell anyone about this. A teacher could get into trouble for selling things to students, even books. Mrs. Wilkins was not a popular teacher and books were not popular items, still, the novelty of buying something and the excitement of keeping it secret spread throughout the room and in the end, nearly everyone with money had bought a book. While everyone was flipping pages and counting money, Marjorie got a wonderful idea. She'd buy as many books as she could to make Mrs. Wilkins happy! After all, Mrs. Wilkins was always telling Marjorie to read more books! And then she could give the books away to her friends as farewell gifts. Perhaps, it wasn't an entirely honest way of pleasing her teacher but Marjorie could think of none other. So she selected the books, based on her opinion of what Lucy and her family might like, and laid down her money, down to her very last two-pence.

"Hello!" Susan said, standing up quickly and smiling widely. "Glad to see you, Marjorie!"

Marjorie blinked in greeting but could not speak because her chin was keeping the books in place. Hadn't she heard Lucy's voice before opening the door?

"Why don't you set down those books somewhere?" Susan said.

Marjorie inclined her head slightly and felt the book right under her chin begin to slide. Susan rushed to grab the top book right before it fell. "Lucy don't just sit there, come help!" she scolded.

"I'll put them on my desk," Lucy said softly, rising. Then she took the four remaining books with one hand (Marjorie looked on with envy knowing that she would never managed it) and handed the cat to Marjorie in a rather absentminded manner with the other.

Marjorie took the cat very, very carefully. She did not feel particularly comfortable around large cats. Oh, she loved kittens and she liked to pet cats when they were at arm's length but holding them was going a bit too far. Lucy should have known that! Marjorie studied Lucy a bit more carefully and thought that she could detect a tear in Lucy's left eye.

"Lu, are you all right?" Marjorie asked, concerned.

"She was just telling me how much she would miss Nalsa during the summer and we both got teary-eyed," Susan said quickly. "It is a rather dismal topic. Can you cheer us up?"

Marjorie grinned. "Easily," she said. She picked up a book and said, "Presents!"

Susan gasped. "Oh, you don't mean they're for us?"

Marjorie felt like dancing with delight. "Of course, they are!" She put down the book and picked up the book she had selected for Lucy. "The Wizard of Oz!" she announced.

"Oh!" Susan gasped again. "Have you seen the American film with Judy Garland in it? I thought it was absolutely gorgeous! Of course, I've never read the book. Have you, Lu?"

"I think I did, several years ago," Lucy said. "I never understood why Dorothy was in such a hurry to get home. If I were her, I'd stay in Oz for much, much longer!"

"I've wondered that myself," Marjorie said. She had never _really_ wondered such a thing but now that she thought about it…

"Well… Auntie Em was worried about her," Susan said. "It would have been cruel for Dorothy to remain in Oz enjoying herself while her family worried about her back home. And her real life was in Kansas. Oz was only a dream that _reflected_ her real life."

"In the book, it wasn't a dream," Lucy said, suddenly fierce. "It was real!"

"Really? But then how did she get back home?" Susan asked.

"Magic!" Lucy said. "Thank you, Marjorie, it's a very nice book," she added, almost as an afterthought.

Marjorie nodded. She had hoped for a more excited welcome and a more elaborate thank-you. Especially from Lucy who loved books and who was usually so cheerful."I'll pack the other four and you can look them over at home," she said, quickly. Suddenly, she didn't want Lucy to examine the books in front of her. She knew Lucy never hid her feelings and never pretended. If Lucy did not like them, Marjorie would be able to tell and she just couldn't bear it if Lucy did not like them! Better to pretend that Lucy would open them with squeals of rapture back at home.

Nalsa meowed and rubbed against Susan's feet. Susan checked her wristwatch and after thanking Marjorie for the books, left to get Nalsa's dinner from the school's kitchen. Susan and Lucy were left alone.

"Didn't you get any books for yourself?" Lucy asked.

"Oh, no," Marjorie said. "I'm going to have a _terribly_ educational summer, as it is. Father's going to take me to museums and opera houses and other places where he can keep on looking at things and not at me."

"Well, make him look at you," Lucy said. "He probably doesn't know how to go about talking to you, so do things to make him talk to you. Tell a funny story or sing a song or ask him a riddle."

These words reminded Marjorie once again, how different she and Lucy really were. It was a painful reminder. "I'm not like you, Lucy," Marjorie said. "I can't tell stories and I'm not funny! I wish I could stay with you!"

"You'd rather stay with me than spend time with the only family you have?" Lucy asked, her blue eyes wide open. "At least you're staying with your father and going to all sorts of interesting places. I'm staying with Aunt Alberta and she believes operas are old-fashioned and cats are unsanitary! And worst of all, I won't see father or mother or Susan or Peter all summer!" And Lucy burst into tears.

Marjorie stared at her helplessly. She wanted to comfort Lucy somehow but she had never been particularly good at that sort of thing and finally she said the only comforting thing she could think of saying.

"At least you'll be with Edmund."

Lucy looked up, thoroughly angry now, although she wasn't sure at what. "Of course, _you_ would_ love_ to spend the summer with Edmund!" she said.

Marjorie froze.

A girl's first crush is a sensitive thing. After a weekend visit to the Pevensies' house last summer, Marjorie had told Lucy that she liked Edmund. She had relayed it to her as a precious secret and Lucy had promised not to tell anyone, even under torture. And now to hear her precious secret being referred to in such a scornful tone, left Marjorie absolutely speechless. She could only stand there and look at Lucy and feel betrayed.

Lucy knew instantly that she had said the wrong thing. "Oh, Marjorie," she said. "I'm sorry."

Marjorie was silent.

"You're right. Of course, you're right. I shouldn't have said that. I was just so unhappy that I wanted to hurt someone. Not that that's any excuse. I was perfectly horrid!"

Marjorie did not speak.

"Marjorie, please. Can't you forgive me?"

Marjorie knew what was expected of her. "Of course, I forgive you," she said. She even smiled.


	10. The Betrayal

_"You have misjudged your friend. She is weak but she loves you. She was afraid of the older girl and said what she does not mean."_

_-Aslan, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader_

The afternoon began terribly for Marjorie. She sat on a bench at the train station and realized it was wet because it had been raining earlier that day. She moved to another bench but it didn't make much of a difference now. Somehow Marjorie had a feeling that such things never happened to Lucy.

Why did she feel so angry at Lucy? Lucy hadn't actually done anything _wrong. _Lucy _had_ thanked her for the books. But not as if she meant it. And Lucy _had_ apologized for that snide comment about Edmund. But that didn't take away the sting.

And Lucy wasn't supposed to make snide comments at all! Usually, Lucy was helpful, kind, cheerful, practically perfect as far as Marjorie was concerned. So what had been wrong with her today? Lucy had seemed more unhappy about parting with her cat than about parting with Marjorie!

Perhaps, Lucy wasn't as perfect as Marjorie had always thought she was. Marjorie had always valued their friendship. That's why she had refused to sit with the popular girls that November day. Since then she had often wondered, did she do the right thing? Had she said yes, would she have been welcome to join their group forever?

Well, even if she had made the wrong choice, it was too late to change anything. With the exception of Susan, the girls hadn't given her so much as a glance since then. They had rejected her. Forever.

The train pulled up to the station with the terrible clatter that always made Marjorie feel a little bit frightened. She had never learned to like trains. She stood up and gathered her bags but just as she took one hesitant step into the train car, a familiar coat brushed against her shoulder. Marjorie followed the sleeve of the coat with her eyes and right up into the face of Anne Featherstone.

Marjorie froze. But Anne had not seen her. She passed Marjorie quickly, grabbed a seat and slipped into it with quick gracefulness.

Marjorie took another step to avoid standing in the doorway and stopped again. What was she to do next? Part of her wanted to rush up to Anne and greet her and perhaps they'd have a lovely talk during the ride. But what if Anne didn't want to talk to her or sit with her? What if she gave her a cold, formal greeting or even worse, ignored her completely? Marjorie couldn't bear to stay in the same train car with someone who ignored her for three hours!

Maybe she should look for a seat as far away from Anne as possible. But as she stood there and tried to decide what to do, Anne glanced up and saw her. Her eyes met Marjorie's, for a moment she seemed to be deciding something, then, she smiled and patted the seat next to her.

Marjorie exhaled and smiled back. Then she hurried to the seat before Anne could change her mind.

"Marjorie Preston! Am I glad to see you! It would have been dreadfully dull to sit alone!"

Marjorie's grin seemed to stretch from one end of the train to the other. This was a more enthusuastic greeting than she had ever hoped for.

"I was thinking the very same thing just now," she confessed.

"So where are you spending the holidays?"

"Home with my father. I mean, we won't actually be at home much. I mean, we'll be visiting places...like museums and things," Marjorie stammered.

"Just you and your father? But what about..." Anne halted. "Well, anyway, you'll have quite a few stories to tell when you come back to school, won't you?"

"Yes," Marjorie said. "Quite a few." Earlier she had looked at her summer rather dismally, but now that she thought about it, perhaps, Anne was right. Perhaps, she was going to enjoy herself.

"Shall we see anything of you next term?"

Marjorie could hardly believe it. They _wanted_ to see more of her? Marjorie had thought that...but of course, they wanted to see more of her! They had invited her to sit with them once, hadn't they? And she had foolishly said no!

Seeing that Marjorie was still trying to form a coherent reply, Anne added, "Or are you still going to be all taken up with that Lucy Pevensie?"

_Taken up? _Is that how they saw her? As Lucy's adoring little follower? Was that how _Lucy_ saw her?

"Don't know what you mean by 'taken up'," Marjorie protested.

"Oh, yes you do. You were crazy about her last term."

Marjorie felt her face heat up. "No, I wasn't," she snapped, shocked at herself for daring to speak in such a tone. But Anne just smiled at her outburst and nodded encouragingly. She seemed to be waiting for Marjorie to say more. Marjorie babbled on.

"I've got more sense than that. Not a bad little kid in her way. But I was getting pretty tired of her before the end of term."

Anne was amazed. She had been hoping to goad Marjorie into saying something negative about Lucy. It would be funny to watch one silly child criticize another. But she hadn't imagined that spineless Marjorie could speak with such venom.

"Oh, I understand you perfectly, Marjorie. Susan complains about Lucy all the time." This wasn't entirely true. Susan had only complained about Lucy once. But Anne went on. "I suppose the poor child is jealous for the attention she gets at home so she won't let you out of her sight. We must be kind to her."

Marjorie sat wondering how the conversation had gotten to this point. She hadn't wanted to say anything bad about Lucy. She had simply let out the anger she had been feeling all day and somehow in Anne's presence, her words had come out cold and hard. If Lucy ever heard of this...Marjorie felt quite sick at the thought.

"Oh, Anne. You won't tell Lucy what I said, will you?" Marjorie pleaded.

Anne looked shocked at such a suggestion. "Of course not," she said. "Didn't I just say that we must be kind to her?"


	11. The Letter

"You're not doing it right. Hold still."

Edmund stepped behind Eustace, positioning his arm and showing him how to hold a sword properly. Eustace's face was scrunched up with effort. Lucy was sitting on Edmund's bed and trying not to laugh because instead of a sword, Eustace was using Aunt Alberta's black umbrella.

"Now." Edmund picked up his own umbrella. "Shall we try again?"

There was a knock on the door. Edmund and Lucy exchanged panicked glances. "Put them on the bed," Lucy hissed. She grabbed the umbrellas and Eustace opened the door.

It was the maid.

"Letters," she said, dropping three or four letters on Eustace's desk. The Scrubbs' maid never spoke in sentences if she could help it. On her way to the door, she automatically picked up the umbrellas to bring them downstairs.

"Wait!" Lucy yelped. "Leave the umbrellas! Um, we need them."

"Yes, miss." The maid put down the umbrellas. She glanced suspiciously at the ceiling of Eustace's room as though she thought it might start raining indoors and walked out.

Eustace was the first to laugh and Lucy and Edmund joined in. How different Eustace's laugh was now! So different from the snicker he used to have.

"You seem tired. I say we take a break," Edmund said to Eustace.

"I am not tired!" Eustace protested hotly.

"Can you pretend to be for a moment? I want to see if I have any letters from Peter," Edmund said shamelessly.

Lucy leaned back on the bed and smiled, watching Edmund. He rummaged through the letters and his face lit up when he saw the letter from Peter. He placed it in his pocket to read later. Lucy was not expecting a letter from Peter today. Every few days Peter sent one letter, alternating between her and Edmund.

"There are two letters for you," Edmund said to Lucy. "One from Susan and one from a friend with really awful handwriting. Although it is better than mine," he conceded.

Lucy took the letter and glanced at the postmark. It was from Marjorie.

Lucy felt a lump of anger start forming in her throat. Marjorie's words still rang in her head. _Not a bad little kid…_ _pretty tired of her before the end of term… _If Marjorie was tired of her, then why was she writing letters? Lucy felt a sudden desire to throw the letter away.

But part of her wanted to read it. Now that she knew how Marjorie really felt about her, maybe she'd see it in Marjorie's words as well. Or maybe there would be something in Marjorie's letter that would hint that she was sorry for her words.

"Lu, are you all right?" Edmund asked.

Lucy glanced up. "I think I will be," she said. "I need to read this letter to decide."

Edmund looked puzzled but since Lucy usually shared things with him before long, he did not press. Lucy stepped out of the boys' room and opened the letter. She read it while walking down the hall.

_Dear Lucy,_

_Today, father and I went to the movies. The movie theater was __nice. I wanted to see "Snow White and the Seven Dwarves" but father said I was too old so we went to see a movie for grown-ups (I forgot the name). It was interesting. I liked it but I fell asleep before it ended. Father is right. He is a grown-up so he must know best. Tomorrow, we are going to a science museum. I am excited._

_Love, Marjorie _

_**PS: There are no mistakes in this leter bec**__**ause father cheked it for me. That's also why I had to say that I liked the movie and that I was excited about tomorow. **_

Lucy sat down on her bed and read the letter over and over again. It only made her more confused. Oh, why had she even opened it in the first place?

How different this Marjorie seemed from the one she had overheard speaking about her at the train station! This Marjorie was pretending to be satisfied and excited for her father's sake but she wasn't doing it very well. The letter suggested (and the postscript confirmed) that Marjorie was lonely and bored. Had Lucy not been so angry she would have felt sympathetic. But even this nicer Marjorie was perfectly capable of deceit. Lucy wondered whether the Marjorie that lied to her father, could have been lying to _her_ for months.

And now what? She couldn't pretend that nothing was wrong and write back! But she couldn't ignore Marjorie's letters either. She desperately needed to talk to someone but for the first time in her life she couldn't seem to find anybody. Edmund was near and Lucy felt that she could really benefit from his advice but he was the one person she could _not_ talk to! To get his advice, she would have to tell him about Marjorie's betrayal. And although Lucy was very angry at Marjorie, she still couldn't find it in her to discredit Marjorie so in Edmund's eyes. It would the worst way to hurt Marjorie and Lucy didn't want revenge.

She _could_ write to Peter or Susan… She had already written to them once, telling them that she had been in Narnia. But there hadn't been enough room to tell them about everything so she had promised to give them the details later. And father had warned her not to write to Peter too much, to let him concentrate on studying. Besides, her feelings were so complicated and difficult to explain on paper! No, she needed to have a real face-to-face talk with someone. So Lucy sought out the only person she had left: Eustace.

"Eustace, can you give me some advice?" she began hesitantly, while Edmund was being forced to listen to one of uncle Harold's dull lectures in the living room. "Only you must promise not to tell Edmund."

Eustace was quick to flare up. "And why not?" he demanded suspiciously.

"I can't tell you that either," Lucy said miserably. "But I have a good reason."

Eustace had recently developed a dislike for secrets. He had been a conniving and sneaky creature all his life and now for the first time he was trying out honesty and he was finding it wonderfully refreshing. He wanted to learn to be as open and as sincere about everything as Lucy was. And she was standing there and asking him to keep a secret! But he also trusted Lucy so he nodded. "Fire ahead," he said.

Well, perhaps he was a bit curious. And maybe a little flattered that Lucy would ask him for advice.

So Lucy told him all about the magician's book and its' temptations and how she had spoken the spell at the magician's house and had heard Marjorie's conversation with Anne.

Eustace seemed surprised. "I thought _you _were more sensible than that," he said.

Lucy felt sudden tears rush to her eyes. And she suddenly realized why Peter was always so afraid of disappointing others. It hurt terribly to see others disappointed in you.

"I shouldn't have said the spell, I know that," she wailed. "It wasn't right to eavesdrop, magically or otherwise. Aslan told me so and I was terribly sorry. If I ever see this magic book again, I won't even read the spells to myself. I won't even open the book."

"Of course, you won't," Eustace said. "You're still sensible enough to own up to a thing and say you're sorry. And that's more sensible than most girls anyhow," he added comfortingly.

Lucy gave a short laugh, even as she tried to wipe away her tears. "Thanks," she said. "But what am I to do now? She wrote me a letter. I can't possibly answer it as if nothing was wrong! And I can't _not _answer it either!"

Eustac e looked uncomfortable. "See here," he said. "I'm really not the person to ask. Why don't you write to Susan? She's a girl, isn't she?"

"Yes," Lucy agreed. "She is a girl. But I think…she will give me the wrong advice."

Lucy couldn't be positively sure what Susan would say. But she had a sinking feeling that Susan would advise her to pretend that nothing was wrong and to write back. After all, Susan would say, if you can't possibly explain how you knew about Marjorie's words, it only makes sense to pretend that you didn't know. Then Lucy would say that she would forever wonder whether Marjorie was gossiping about her behind her back. And Susan would tell her that she didn't have to keep on being Marjorie' friend if she didn't want to. She could just gradually dissolve their friendship, write fewer letters and see Marjorie less and less when school came. But Lucy couldn't bear to do that. It was like committing a slow murder.

It took Eustace a moment to understand Lucy's logic. "Wait a moment," he said. "If you know what the wrong advice is, shouldn't you have some idea of what the right advice would be?"

Lucy paused. That was quite a thought. What was the right thing to do? Regardless of whether she could or could not do it, what _was_ it?

"I suppose Aslan wants me to forgive her," Lucy said slowly. She remembered every word Aslan had said and now she repeated his words as if seeking strength from them. "He told me that I've misjudged her, that she is weak but she loves me and that she was afraid of Anne and said what she does not mean."

"You had better do it then," said Eustace.


	12. Truth Again

Lucy labored over her letter to Marjorie for several days. At first, she tried to write a cheerful friendly response, avoiding any mention of her anger. Forgiving means forgetting, she told herself. She would pretend that Marjorie's betrayal had never happened. But reading it over, she was struck at how false her letter sounded and crumpled it up. She, then, tried to write a letter, explaining that she knew what Marjorie had said to Anne but that she had decided to forgive her because they were friends (although she wouldn't mind an apology.) But this one was even worse. She sounded overbearing and patronizing, the very things she despised in Susan's boarding-school friends. Finally, after reading Marjorie's letter again, Lucy wrote a reply that sounded honest, even if it had little substance.

_Dear Marjorie,_

_This is going to be a short letter. I just have one question and I'll write more once you've answered it. Is your father going to read every letter that I send to you? (Mr. Preston, if you are reading this, I am sorry to hurt your feelings and I really don't mean to be disrespectful but I would really like it if my letters to Marjorie were for her eyes alone.)_

_Love, __Lucy_

She recognized the letter for what it was, a delaying tactic. Before Marjorie wrote back, Lucy would have more time to think. And to try to forgive. She knew she had to forgive. But nobody had ever hurt her like this before, sneakily, behind her back and she did not know how to deal with it.

Of course, she had been hurt before. When mum had first told her that Father Christmas wasn't real, she had felt furious that the adults would lie to her for so long. But then it turned out that he _was_ real and, for Lucy, that changed everything. When Edmund had lied about being in Narnia, forgiving him had been difficult…but when she found out that his life was in danger, her anger was overshadowed by worry. When Susan and Peter had refused to believe her so many times, each time she had been furious. But each time they apologized, forgiveness came easier. Each time someone refused to tell the truth, or refused to believe the truth when they heard it, Lucy felt rage because she loved truth fiercely. But Lucy had learned during her years in Narnia that truth always came to light eventually and that one only had to wait. And the revelation of truth, always brought things to a climax in some way. Usually those who lied to her or refused to believe her would come to her with apologies. And Lucy had always forgiven freely before. But this time it was a struggle.

And this time was different. This time, the truth was painful. This time, the truth wouldn't lead to an apology unless Lucy confronted Marjorie with it. And Lucy would have no way of knowing whether Marjorie was apologizing because she meant it. When Marjorie's next letter came, Lucy was no closer to understanding or forgiving.

_Dear Lucy,_

_Father and I __went to the art museum today. There was a picture of a queen with yellow hair that looks like you. I've gotten you a small copy of that picture as a present. I'm going to mail it to you with my next letter. I got a letter from Susan. She said she was having a great time but she was too busy to write more than a few lines. You didn't write much either. I hope you're having a nice time too. I miss you. I wish you were here. _

_Love, Marjorie_

_**PS: Father do**__**sn't read your letters, he only reads mine. Father says that if I write nicely and use a dictianary to look up words, he will soon stop cheking my letters before I send them. **_

Lucy read the letter and burst into tears. She realized, with shock, that she missed Marjorie too. Or rather she missed the Marjorie that she had known before the magic book let her see another side of her character. But the letters revealed the same Marjorie she had always known, timid and uncertain but caring and faithful. Was it all fake? Was it nothing more than a mask of loyalty? Was the Marjorie that she missed even real?

She sat down and began to write, forcing herself to be as honest and affectionate as always, forcing herself to push away suspicions that Marjorie might read her letter and laugh at it.

_Dear Marjorie,_

_I desperately want to talk to you. There are things I need to say to you that could only be said in person and questions that I need to ask that can only be asked face-to-face. But I suppose I'll have to wait until the beginning of school. So I'm going to tell you about what happened to me over the vacation and you'll understand why I must speak to you. _

_You see, Marjorie, I went to Narnia. Narnia! Eustace and Ed and I were sitting in front of a painting on the wall and we just fell in! It was a painting of a Narnian ship. I wonder where Aunt Alberta got the painting and whether the artist had meant to draw a Narnian ship. Perhaps, it was a regular painting and it only became a window into Narnia because Aslan wanted it to be. Of course, we fell right into the ocean and I was so grateful for those swimming lessons we had last term. Eustace could not swim and he had a rather bad time of it before we were pulled onto the ship. But afterwards, it was lovely. We greeted Caspian and Reepicheep the mouse and they were so glad to see us and greeted us so courteously, even Eustace who was being quite rude. Then Caspian gave me a beautiful room and Narnian clothes and spiced wine to drink. When I lay in bed that night and thought of being among friends and of all the adventures waiting for us, I thought I couldn't possibly be happier! And then…_

As she wrote, Lucy forgot about everything. She forgot how she felt about Marjorie, forgot her confusion and anger, and she wrote and wrote into the night. She had just written about how Caspian came just in time to keep them from being taken away to slavery, when she suddenly became aware of the ache in her hand and the ticking clock. She had filled the piece of paper front and back. And she felt peaceful because she knew what she would do now. She would tell the truth.


	13. Susan Again

**This chapter was a suprise to me. I had planned to reach Lucy's and Marjorie's meeting in it. But somehow, Lucy's conversation with Susan on the train came out much longer than I planned. They've missed each other, they needed to have that talk, they wouldn't let me skip over it or compress it. So here it is.**

* * *

Lucy and Susan were on the train, going back to boarding school. They were discussing their vacation, or more specifically Susan's vacation.

"You know, Lu, I didn't want to say this in front of the boys because they'd tease me but I feel like I've really changed over the holidays."

"You didn't have to say it. We could tell," Lucy said.

"Oh, but I mean more than the clothes and the hair," Susan said, bringing up her hands to touch her trendy new haircut. "I've met someone over the summer." She stopped for a moment as if unsure whether she ought to talk about it but then went on. "His name is Frank. I met him when I was buying ice-cream. I accidentally got a butter pecan ice-cream cone instead of vanilla and when he saw that I was staring at my ice-cream in consternation, he made a huge scene and insisted that the ice-cream man give me the right flavor. I was awfully embarrassed, you know, but it was nice to have all this fuss made just for me. And then we walked along the beach and ate our ice-cream and he told me that I was the prettiest girl he had ever met. And that he thought my accent was charming." Susan giggled.

"Does he have any brothers or sisters?" Lucy asked.

Susan shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. But he said that he never had a girl-friend before." She smiled. "And he was awfully shocked to hear that I never had a boy-friend."

"But you did," Lucy said. "I mean…not a_ boy-friend_. _Suitors._ You were even engaged when we went back to England, remember?"

"Well, I couldn't tell him that!" Susan laughed. "Just picture me, a fifteen year old schoolgirl telling him all about my suitors! He'd think I was either crazy or horribly stuck- up." She paused. "I wasn't engaged."

"Yes, you were," Lucy said.

"No, I wasn't."

There was an awkward pause and then Susan said, "Anyway, it hardly matters _now_."

Hardly matters? Lucy wanted to shake her. But it wouldn't do any good. She couldn't keep Susan from forgetting if Susan wanted to forget.

Susan was still talking. "Then, he asked me to go the movies with him. And afterwards, when we were walking home, he kissed me! Lucy, you have no idea what fun it is to be kissed!"

"No, I don't," Lucy admitted. A strange sort of depression was settling over her and she couldn't figure out why. Could she possibly be…jealous?

No, she didn't think so. She had been jealous of Susan before and this was not what it felt like. Rather, she felt this way because Susan suddenly seemed like a stranger to her. What had changed her? Love? Had her summer romance developed into something deeper?

"Are you going to write to each other?" Lucy asked.

"Write? Oh, no. We…we both agreed that it made little sense to write if we couldn't see each other." Susan swallowed and continued. "But that's all right. It's what I expected, really. Even when we were seeing each other every day, I knew it couldn't last."

"But that seems so…sad," Lucy whispered.

"At least I wasn't hurt," Susan retorted.

_At least I wasn't hurt._ Susan had been careful not to become too attached to Frank, and she was able to speak of him so lightheartedly despite the fact that they would never see each other again. Lucy didn't think Susan's way was wrong _exactly_. But she couldn't picture herself doing the same. Perhaps, she should try it. Perhaps, if she hadn't been so attached to Marjorie in the first place, Marjorie's betrayal wouldn't hurt so much.

"What are you thinking of?" Susan asked.

Lucy looked at her. Susan might have changed but she was still her sister and she still cared.

"I've heard someone say something awful about me over the holidays," she confessed.

Susan's dark eyes widened. She moved closer to Lucy and put her arm around her.

"You? Who could possibly speak badly of _you?_" Suddenly, Susan looked ashamed. "Was it one of my friends? You mustn't let it bother you. They like to gossip but they don't really mean what they say. Where could you possibly have heard it anyway?"

"Well, it happened when we were in Narnia," Lucy began but she stopped when she saw Susan break eye-contact and look down.

"Go on," Susan said, calmly, examining her skirt.

"Su?" Lucy asked. "Does it hurt you when I speak of Narnia?"

Susan looked up and laughed. "Why should it?"

"Because I've been there this summer and you haven't. I know that it hurts Peter."

"Then why did you and Ed spend all evening talking about it?" Susan asked, sounding faintly amused. When Lucy and Edmund had begun talking about their adventures last night, at first she had tried to change the subject and when that failed, she had remained silent and busied herself with stroking the cat.

"Peter said that it was the most beautiful type of pain there could be and that he would much rather have that pain than any other type of pleasure."

"That sounds more like the sort of thing that _you_ would say," Susan said.

"I could never phrase it so well but I do understand what he means. Do you?"

"Can't we get back to the point?" Susan asked impatiently. "What was it you wanted to know?"

"Does it hurt you when I speak of Narnia?" Lucy insisted.

Susan shook her head. "It makes me anxious to hear you speak of magic and talking animals in a train full of people who might hear you. I would rather you kept your mentions of Narnia to a minimum. But, no, it doesn't hurt me. Why should I be jealous of you? I've got plenty to be happy about."

"But it has nothing to do with jealousy," Lucy tried to explain.

"Do you _want_ it to hurt me?" Susan asked. "Is that it?"

Lucy was shocked into silence.

After a moment, Susan hurriedly added, "I didn't really mean that. Of course, you don't want me to be hurt. Now what was it you wanted to ask me?"

Lucy felt desperately angry. "I'd have to mention Narnia to explain and you won't allow that."

"I never said I didn't allow it." Susan sighed. "Why do you have to be so difficult, Lucy? Why can't you just get to the point?"

Lucy looked at her and tried to find the words. Because. Because it was all very complicated. She had written to Marjorie daily, telling her all about their voyage on the Dawn Treader. When she had reached the part about the magic book, she had stopped writing for a moment and had been tempted to skip over it entirely. But then she had kept writing and had written about everything, including Marjorie's conversation with Anne. She had written: _Why did you hurt me so, Marjorie? Aslan told me that you didn't mean it and he is never wrong. But just because you didn't mean it, doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt. If you really do care about me and you aren't 'tired of me', write back and tell me so._

Marjorie hadn't written back.

And now she was heading back to boarding-school where a confrontation with Marjorie was inevitable.

Susan was looking at her wristwatch. "You had better speak fast," she said. "We'll be arriving in ten minutes."

"You see," Lucy began. "Marjorie was sitting with Anne Featherstone on the train. And she was saying nasty things about me."

"Who was? Anne?"

"No, Marjorie!"

"And where were _you_ at the time? Under the seat?"

"I was in Narnia. I was using a magic book to spy on them."

Susan frowned. "It sounds like a bad dream to me. Are you sure it actually happened?"

"Well, of course, it happened!" Lucy said. "I remember every word."

Susan was silent.

"Well?" Lucy asked. 'What do you think I should do?"

"I don't know," Susan said. "I only know that Anne has a certain way of drawing you into saying things that you don't really mean." She laughed. "I don't really think anyone should be held accountable for what they say when they're speaking to Anne. "

"But _you_, Susan, _you_ wouldn't say awful things about me even to Anne, would you?" Lucy asked.

Susan shook her head. "No, I wouldn't," she said. " But I've known Anne for a year and I've learned. Marjorie is younger and more easily influenced...and she's afraid of Anne." Susan paused. " I think you ought to give her another chance."

Lucy stared at Susan and wondered how it was possible that Susan, who had put Narnia behind her, could give her nearly exactly the same advice Aslan had.


	14. Apologies

**I've revised and reposted this chapter. I'm not sure if I made it better or worse but it definitely needed some changing. Please Review!**

* * *

"Lucy! I've missed you!" Marjorie said.

They were standing in the middle of the dining room, right before the start of dinner and the girls were chattering and moving around them.

"I've missed _you_!" Lucy said, putting her arms around Marjorie and realizing with shock that she was _trying_ to sound sincere. This wasn't like her. She usually had no trouble sounding sincere because she usually _was_ sincere. And hadn't she missed Marjorie? Of course, she had. But at the moment, she didn't want to exchange pleasantries.

"Did you get my last letter?" Lucy asked.

Marjorie nodded, swallowing.

"Why didn't you write back?"

"I was busy."

Lucy must have looked fierce because Marjorie took a quick step back. Lucy forced herself to be gentler. "Why are you lying to me?" she asked, softly. "What are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid!" Marjorie said.

"Then why didn't you write back?"

"I…I was afraid."

Lucy took a deep breath. "Of what?"

"You knew about what happened," Marjorie said, lowering her voice. "How did you know?"

"Haven't I been explaining that all along in my letters? I went to Narnia."

"But Narnia isn't…" Marjorie trailed off. She had never really given much thought to whether Narnia was real or not. It had never really mattered to her. All that had really mattered was that Lucy enjoyed talking about it and Marjorie enjoyed listening. When she had gotten that final letter, she was suddenly faced with the fact that Lucy knew what she couldn't possibly know and her explanation for knowing it was that she had gone to Narnia. Which made Narnia real. Only Narnia couldn't be real because it was a magic world and everyone knew that magic wasn't real. It was too hard to figure out so Marjorie simply gave up trying.

Lucy wanted to ask Marjorie how she could reject Narnia with the evidence right in front of her, to reason with Marjorie until she had convinced her. But she knew that this wasn't what she had really meant to talk about.

"Whether you believe in Narnia or not, you have to admit that I heard you. You were saying that I was a little kid and that you were tired of me," Lucy said, quietly.

"I'm sorry for what I said," Marjorie said. Tears began to pour down her cheeks. "I am dreadfully sorry!" she choked out. "I didn't mean it! I was angry at you that day and…Anne wanted me to say these things…so I said them!"

"Angry at me? For what?" Lucy asked.

"I…I don't remember now!" Marjorie said, laughing through her tears.

Lucy laughed too. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'll try to remember what I did so that I don't do it again!"

There was a pause.

"But why didn't you write back?" Lucy asked.

"Oh, I didn't know what to write or how to write it! Besides father read all my letters. I couldn't let father find out about this! He'd hate me! I promise you I'll never do it again, never, never!"

"Oh, Marjorie, I've missed you!" Lucy said, smiling through her tears. "And I forgive you."

And she did forgive Marjorie. She really did. All her doubts about whether Marjorie really wanted to be her friend disappeared. All her anger dissolved when she thought about how shocked Marjorie must have felt when she read her letter. But even as they put their arms around each other and walked to a dinner table together, Lucy couldn't help but wonder about Marjorie's last words. _I promise you I'll never do it again,_ she had said. Somehow Lucy couldn't quite believe that. She realized now that Marjorie had always lied when it was convenient and acted differently in front of different people. There was no reason to believe that she would change. Lucy realized that she would always wonder what Marjorie was saying about her behind her back. They might be friends again but she just didn't trust Marjorie as she used to.

* * *

**I'm sorry that I had to end the chapter at such a depressing point. But I really don't think that exchanging apologies is enough to _completely_ restore a friendship. That's why there's another chapter coming! **


	15. Marjorie Again

There was an English composition due tomorrow and Lucy was worried.

Normally, she would not be. She liked English. But this time she wasn't sure what to write about. Here is what it said: **Composition# 1: Write about an interesting or unusual person that you know. Use clear adjectives and give examples. Do NOT write about movie stars unless you know them personally. **

Of course, the difficulty wasn't in _knowing_ interesting or unusual people. The difficulty was that they were all Narnian and she couldn't write about them without mentioning magic or flying or daring adventures that were hardly possible in England. A year ago, she would have written about them anyway. But over the last year, she had received three papers back with red marks all over them, telling her that she had a fine imagination but needed to stick to the truth. The truth! And each time she had complained to Susan, Susan had said, _I told you _and had begged her not to write about Narnia anymore.

Yesterday she had thought of a solution. She had raised her hand in class and when Mrs. Wilkins had called on her, she had said, "May I write a poem instead?"

Poetry was the only form of writing in which one could write the truth and people would not doubt it because they didn't take it literally. If she wrote about a friend who had a fish's tail and a human body, people would see it as a metaphor, not as a sign that she was batty.

But Mrs. Wilkins had answered, "You may add a poem to the composition if you wish. I still require a composition."

"How many words must it be?" Priscilla Bennett had asked.

Mrs. Wilkins had sighed. "Oh, 300 to 400 words."

400 words. Lucy had written laws and proclamations and for her, 400 words was nothing. But it had to be a _good_ nothing.

So now Lucy decided to make a list of all the people she could write about but instead found that she was making a list of all the people she could _not _write about.

_Tumnus__, Oreius, Giant Wimbleweather, Aravis, Cor, Corin, Caspian, Trufflehunter, Trumpkin, Reepicheep, Coriakin, Ramandu…_There just wasn't anybody as interesting or as unusual here! Although Peter, Susan, Edmund and Eustace were certainly interesting and unusual, it was Narnia that had made them so. Mum and dad were wonderful. But were they interesting or unusual? Guiltily, Lucy had to admit that they weren't. Who was Marjorie writing about? Probably about Mrs. Wilkins. Lucy had never seen Marjorie like a teacher so much. She had never seen Marjorie like a teacher at all! Perhaps, talking to Marjorie would help her think of a person. This year, Marjorie was just down the hall.

Lucy knocked on Marjorie's door and waited. She knocked again, louder this time.

Marjorie opened the door. "Hello," she said quietly. "Don't knock so loudly. Rose is asleep." Rose was one of the girls Marjorie shared a room with.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Lucy gasped. "Do we have to whisper?"

"Well, she told me that as long as my talking was quieter than her snoring, it didn't bother her."

They giggled.

"I've been trying to write that composition for English," Lucy said. "I'm not really getting anywhere. Have you written yours?"

"No," Marjorie said, quickly. "I haven't. Uh…Mrs. Wilkins said she would help me so I actually have to be going…soon." With these words she stood in front of her desk, blocking it from Lucy's view.

"Really?" Lucy asked, frowning. Marjorie was acting strange. "Well, who are you writing about?"

"Who? Um…Who am I writing about? I don't…I don't know yet…You know, we really should go over to your room before Rose wakes up."

"Why do you keep blocking your desk?" Lucy asked.

Marjorie paled. "I'm not," she said, quickly grabbing a piece of paper filled with writing from her desk and crumpling it in her fist.

And suddenly Lucy understood.

"You're writing about me."

Marjorie shook her head. "No!" she said, clutching the paper.

"Then let me see it!"

"No!" Marjorie hugged the paper to herself.

"Why not?" Lucy's voice had grown cold and suspicious. Why was Marjorie so desperate to keep her from seeing the paper? Had Marjorie written something horrible about her? _Unusual_ had many meanings. She pictured Marjorie saying to Anne Featherstone, _not a bad little kid but so unusual!_

"Aw, Marjorie, let her see it. Then maybe she'll correct your mistakes and I won't have to," said a sleepy voice.

"Rose!" Marjorie gasped and turned in Rose's direction. And Lucy reached over and grabbed the crumpled piece of paper. She unfolded it. Her name was written across the top.

Marjorie burst into tears. "I knew it!" she wailed. "I knew I'd ruin everything!"

Suddenly, Lucy felt ashamed. No matter what Marjorie had written, it didn't give _her_ a reason to act beastly! "I'm sorry," she said, softly. "Here, take it back."

"Read it," Marjorie said, still crying. "You might as well."

So Lucy read.

_An Interesting and Unusual Person I Know: Lucy, My Friend_

_The most interesting and unusual person I know is my best friend Lucy. She is a really kind person. There arent that many people in the world who are kind but Lucy is diferent. She is kind. When I cry, some times she also starts crying because she feels sorry for me. And she always wants to help. Like one time, she saved a kitten from the rain and brouhgt it inside. That was kind and she wasnt even scared to get in trouble because she is brave. Not like me. She wasnt scared to take swiming lessons. That is brave. And she helped me to not be afraid iether because she told me she woud save me if I ever started to drown. Of course I know she cant really save me because I'm too hevy. But its still brave of her to say that. And Lucy tells stories. I dont mean lies Lucy never lies not even to get out of truble. She just tells stories. Theyre really interesting. I try to belive them. I wish I coud belive them._

_Some times Lucy gets mad at me. And then I feel like I should really make up because I hate fihgting with her. It makes me feel like I have nobody in the hole world left because shes my only real friend. Theres also you, but you dont really count because youre a teacher (I hope you wont be mad at me for saying that). I tell Lucy Im sorry and some times she forgives me rihgt away.  
_

_I know youre going to pick the best composishion and have the writer read it out loud to every body in the school. Couldnt you please pick me? I know my composishion is not the best because my spelling and gramar aren't so great but I really want to read this to the hole school. Because if I do, Lucy will know that I want to tell every body that shes my friend and that I will never ever say horid things about her again._

_And that is why Lucy is interesting and unusual._

"Your cheeks are really red," Rose said to Lucy with a yawn. "You should look in the mirror."

"Oh, Marjorie," said Lucy, still staring at the paper. "I'm not really as wonderful as all that."

"Oh, yes you are," Marjorie said, tearfully.

"I just flew at you and stole your paper and made you cry."

"I know," Marjorie said, smiling through her tears.

"It's...lovely, Marjorie. But why didn't you want me to read it?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise," sniffed Marjorie. "I wanted you to hear me go up on the stage and read it to everybody. And then you wouldn't hear the mistakes."

Lucy looked at Marjorie in amazement. Had Marjorie come to Lucy with the composition and asked her to read it, Lucy wouldn't have been surprised to read about her virtues. She might might have even thought that Marjorie was 'sucking up.' It would have been awful but that's what she would have thought. Trust wasn't easily regained. But Marjorie wanted to read it to everybody. She wanted to read it in front of Anne Featherstone and Agatha Samuels and...everybody! And she wasn't afraid of what they would think! She cared about their friendship more.

"There's only one_ real_ mistake in it," Lucy said. "Where you write 'Not like me.' You _are_ brave, Marjorie. Very brave."

"Can you two finish giving each other compliments already?" Rose sighed. "I'd like to sleep."

"Come on," Lucy said. When they closed the door and started walking down the hall, Lucy said, "Marjorie, let's have a talk. A lovely, long talk."

Marjorie nodded. "Yes, let's," she said.

And they did.


End file.
